


Takedown

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, Fanfiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So many things make Rodney angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Takedown

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic for kink_bingo. The prompt: “consent play”.  
> I ticked the warning, but it's intended to be simulated abduction and rape.
> 
> (just posting my old stuff across to AO3)

So many things make Rodney angry.

Some days, he’s grinding his teeth from the moment he wakes, aching to punch the wall on his way to the shower. The water’s no relief, he just feels that he’s drowning in rage.

Rodney hates the military, loathes the hierarchy that grinds out mind-numbing policies about toilet paper usage, MRE storage and fraternization. And don’t get him started on Don’t Ask Don’t Tell or he’ll have to strap himself to a nuke and head back through the wormhole to Earth.

Then there are cretinous scientists with death-wishes, hell-bent on destroying themselves and the city through sheer, bone-headed idiocy. He wants to kill them all, to line them up against the wall and mow them down with his P-90 until they’re hamburger.

And finally, John: taking risks, flirting with danger, almost getting killed. That makes him angrier than all the rest together. 

~~o0o~~ 

On really bad days when he’s vibrating with fury, Zelenka tips John off.

“It is a bad one, John, he just shot up his laptop with his sidearm. Miko is hiding in the storage closet.”

“Jesus. Okay, just get everyone out of there and I’ll deal with him.”

~~o0o~~

“Dealing with him” means ambushing McKay and hog-tieing him, blindfolding him and hauling him into a transporter. John takes him to the lower levels where Atlantis is broken, just above the flooded section. He stashes Rodney in an empty room, leaving him alone, sitting against the wall outside, waiting.

Rodney bucks and writhes in his bonds. He yells wild obscenities into the dark, deserted room until his voice cracks. His wrists are rubbed raw, but that doesn’t matter. The pain calms him, and slowly, slowly, he vents all the rage, the frustration.

John knows when he’s ready, the diatribe fading to a whining grumble. He slips silently back into the room and flips Rodney onto his front. Rodney knee-walks away clumsily, but John catches him easily, pinning his legs under John’s as he undoes his pants and pulls them roughly down.

Rodney’s screaming now, hoarse, broken cries, cursing John, but not by name. It’s “You bastard, you fucking fucking cunt asshole bastard,” as John becomes everyone and everything Rodney’s ever hated. John takes no notice; he knows not to take it personally.

Spitting on his fingers, John opens Rodney up, working two, then three fingers right inside him, avoiding his prostate, stretching him so it burns. Rodney curses and thrashes, foaming at the mouth at the indignity, the violation.

Pushing in hard and rough, John takes him. Just some spit, no lube. It hurts and Rodney’s moaning now, eyes shut, his tear-streaked cheek sliding to and fro on the dirty floor. John’s hands grip his ass, tightly enough to leave bruises on his hips. Rodney’s sobbing: “No, No, No,” with every harsh thrust.

John doesn’t say a word, just drives his cock into Rodney, relentless, as the protests fade down to soft, broken whimpers. Finally, John reaches round and jerks Rodney off, hard and fast. Rodney comes with a full-body shudder, then collapses. John comes soon after.

~~o0o~~

Afterwards Rodney’s limp and exhausted. John’s wiped out too, but he carries Rodney back to his room, undressing him gently and washing them both in the shower. He dries Rodney off, rubs salve into the grazes and scrapes and tucks Rodney into bed, slipping in after him, wrapping him up in his arms.

“Better now?” John whispers to the back of Rodney’s neck, rubbing circles on his stomach. 

“Much better, thanks. I was code red, close to going critical. I could feel my head swelling up like a pumpkin about to explode.”

“Yeah, we noticed when you ventilated your laptop.”

They’re quiet for a while, just breathing together, then Rodney says: “You okay, John?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You know I’d safeword if it was too much for me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Rodney turns and kisses John, sweet and soft, snuggling into his chest.

"G’night John, thanks.”

John holds him close, waiting until Rodney’s breathing softens and deepens before letting himself slide down to join Rodney in sleep.

~~o0o~~

 


End file.
